


missing you

by page_of_wands



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Pre-Season/Series 06, Sorry Not Sorry, Work In Progress, everyone else is just kind of background characters, i don't have time for that unhappy ending shit, keith has Internal StrugglesTM, lance gets hurt but it's ok, lance just wants his boyfriend to come home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:23:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/page_of_wands/pseuds/page_of_wands
Summary: Keith's off with the Blade and low-key hating it, Lance wants him to come home, and a decision has to be made.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi, folks. this was unbeta-ed, and is my first work on ao3, so be kind.

Lance was hiding in the hanger, anxiously spinning the port screen around in his fingers. Dinner had been hours ago, but his stomach roiled as if he had only just eaten. The others were no doubt occupied by their own hobbies, and Lance was fairly certain he wouldn’t be interrupted here.

 

Two weeks.

 

That’s how long Keith had been gone. Not so long that Voltron had run into any Galra yet, but long enough for Lance to worry. Two weeks, and not a single word from his side of the galaxy.

 

He was probably worrying over nothing. Keith’s probably completely fine; there’s a ninety percent chance he’s just hanging with the cool Marmora dudes, chilling after a long day of reconnaissance or infiltration or cool junk like that. Lance would only be bothering him during his break-time; Keith left for a reason, you know, and he should totally respect that…

 

But for all Lance tried to convince himself it was fine, it wasn’t fine. There was still that ten percent chance he was hugely injured, or worse, and they hadn’t had time to message Voltron.

 

Lance sighed and righted the port screen. All justifications aside, he had to know. So, without giving himself time to second-guess his decision, he dialed Keith’s port screen…and waited.

 

He didn’t have to wait long. After only a few ticks, the orange haze cleared from the screen and Keith was looking back at him.

 

Keith looked…as good as could be expected, Lance guessed. His hair was down, and from what he could tell, he was wearing comfortable clothes—that is, a black T-shirt instead of the suits Lance had seen other Marmora agents wearing. There were also black circles under his eyes, like someone had swiped charcoal there, and his eyebrows were furrowed in what seemed like disbelief.

 

“Hey, Lance,” Keith said, and his tone confirmed his surprise.

 

“Hi,” Lance replied softly, and absorbed Keith’s face for a minute. He jumped out of his reverie in a second. “How’s it going? Not too terrible, I hope; it must be hard not to be around a charming guy like _this_ every day.” Lance smiled and quirked an eyebrow at the lens in what he hoped was a confident smirk and not a desperate one.

 

Keith scoffed gently. “I haven’t missed Coran _that_ much,” he teased in return. Lance gaped in fake offense.

 

“Keith. My man. I’m _hurt_.” Keith huffed a laugh, and Lance tut-tutted. “Really, though. How are the marmites treating you?”

 

“The what?” Keith’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Isn’t that a type of spread?”

 

“The _blades_ ,” Lance clarified. “Cuz if I hear that they’ve been giving you a rough time, you bet your ass I’ll be over there in a heartbeat to teach them a lesson they’ll never forget.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Keith raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You’d take on a legion of trained spies and assassins?”

 

“I’d take on Zarkon himself to defend your honor.” Lance was unusually serious, until he broke it up by saying, “Who says chivalry is dead?”

 

“Idiot,” Keith said fondly. “You wouldn’t make it past the first guy.”

 

“Says you,” Lance rebuked. Keith just smiled wearily in response, and once again, Lance’s eyes swept over his profile in assessment. He gnawed on his bottom lip, and then softly pronounced, “You look tired.”

 

Keith’s laugh was short and humorless. “I _feel_ tired,” he agreed, and rubbed his eyes. “They’ve been training the daylights out of me since I arrived. Would you believe that I haven’t even gone on a mission yet?”

 

“For real?”

 

“Yeah. Whenever I ask about it, they just say I “need more preparation.” What the fuck does that even mean?” he asked exasperatedly.

 

“What do they even have left to teach you?” Lance asked rhetorically. “Pretty sure you were close to maxing out the simulators here.”

 

“Is that possible?” Keith asked, eyes widening, and Lance chuckled.

 

“If it is, you or Shiro would be the one to find out,” he replied. At the mention of Shiro, they both sobered up.

 

“Anything new?” Keith asked quietly. Lance shook his head, and hated how his head drooped at the confession.

 

“He’s been acting just as weird as when we first got him back. I know everyone thought that with time he’d go back to normal, but—” Lance glanced over his shoulder and swept a glance around the hanger “—it doesn’t look likely.”

 

“Acting weird how, exactly?” Keith asked.

 

“He’s just…rougher. We still haven’t done the weird mind-meldy thing, and he acts like it’s our fault. He doesn’t laugh anymore and I know, I know we can’t expect him to be sunshine and flowers after what he’s gone through, but… He snapped at Pidge the other day. _Pidge._ Because she was late to training. And everyone _knows_ she was only late because she stays up way too late looking for Matt. He just—” Lance sighed explosively. “It’s like he’s not even the same person.”

 

“…have you tried forming Voltron?” The suggestion was hesitant, and Keith looked pensive on the screen, his chin resting on folded hands.

 

“No. We haven’t had a reason to, yet. Thank _dios_ for small mercies,” Lance rolled his eyes.

 

“You’ll have to eventually,” Keith reminded him.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance waved off the concerns, having thought about them enough at night, when he couldn’t sleep.

 

They lapsed into silence. Keith seemed to drink in the sight of him. “I was going to call you, when you called me,” he said eventually. Lance just smiled; so _that’s_ why he picked up so quickly. “I miss you,” he admitted quietly. “And the team.”

 

“We miss you, too,” Lance replied. “ _I_ miss you. When do you get to visit?” Keith shrugged, looking for all the world like it took herculean effort to do so.

 

“Dunno. I don’t even know where we are right now. They don’t tell me anything around here.” Lance nodded, heart sinking in his chest.

 

“Makes sense. I mean, if you’re still on probation or whatever.”

 

“I guess,” Keith agreed, frowning. “Still sucks.”

 

“Still sucks,” Lance echoed.

 

Footsteps sounded from around the corner, and Lance looked up just in time to see Hunk coming downstairs with a toolbox in his hand, whistling a tune under his breath.

 

“What’s that sound?” Keith asked.

 

“It’s Hunk.” Lance looked down at the port screen. “I gotta go.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Call me whenever you get the chance to,” Lance chided him. “We’ve been worried sick over you. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Keith nodded. “See you later.”

 

“Bye. I love you,” Lance said.

 

“You, too,” he replied, and ended the call.

 

Lance stood up just as Hunk was setting down his tool box, and said, “Hey, Hunk. What’s going on?”

 

Hunk yelped, spinning around with a wrench held high. “Good grief, Lance,” he sighed. “Way to give a guy a head’s up.”

 

“Sorry. Whatcha doing?”

 

“Just doing some repairs on my girl,” he said with pride, and patted the giant paw of his lion. “Want to make sure everything’s working alright. Change the oil, buff some scratches—you know, maintenance stuff.”

 

“Yeah, maintenance stuff,” Lance echoed, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I was just headed up. Needed to talk with Blue about…stuff.” If Hunk noticed his thin excuse, he didn’t point it out.

 

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement. “Everything’s been thrown out of whack without Keith around,” Hunk commented. “I think it’s nice that you and Blue still have a bond, even though you’re piloting Red now.”

 

“Yeah…” he trailed off. “I love Red, but…she isn’t really _my_ lion, y’know? We get along fine, but in the back of my mind, it’s like she’s still Keith’s in the end.”

 

“Makes sense,” Hunk nodded. Lance watched him get out his tools and lay them out on the floor in a way that evidently made sense to him; he couldn’t pick out any rhyme or reason.

 

“Well, see you around,” Lance finished, and bounded up the stairs.

 

“Mmm,” Hunk replied, already lost to his own thoughts.

 

-

 

Back in his room, Lance was curled up on the bed. The port screen was cradled in his lap, a picture of him and Keith glowing dimly. In the photo, Keith looked exasperated, crushed against Lance’s side and his bottom lip sticking out almost in a pout. But the photo Lance swiped to next told a different story; taken only moments after, from across the room by Pidge, Keith was looking at Lance out of the corner of his eye with fondness as Lance looked down, scrutinizing the photo. Truth be told, it was one of Lance’s favorite photos of Keith, the unguarded smile so rarely seen.

 

Lance missed him, more than he’d told anyone. It had only been two weeks, but it felt like longer. Neither knew if—when Keith would be returning. Lance kicked himself for saying he was okay with the idea.

 

It seemed reasonable when Keith had explained it. He was going to train with the Blade for a while, maybe learn about his heritage, study some different fighting techniques. Let the lions settle down with their new paladins, and keep contributing to the cause, even without a lion of his own…

 

Lance had offered Red back. He’d spoken the truth to Hunk: Red was nice enough—passionate and protective, even if only distantly—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t meant to be her paladin. They didn’t relate to her the way he had with Blue, with an easy connection that communicated warmth and comfort.

 

But Keith didn’t accept it—probably, if Lance was being honest, because he knew how much Lance didn’t want to be the seventh wheel of Voltron.

 

_Dammit._ He should have made Keith take Red back. He shouldn’t have let him fuck off and join a troupe of stone-cold killers. He should have told him how much he wasn’t needed there, and how much he _was_ needed here. He should have, he should have.

 

But he didn’t, and Keith was gone, and Lance didn’t know if they’d ever meet again in person.

 

After bawling his eyes out, he knew his eyes would be puffy, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and go through his nightly routine, so instead he fell asleep there, surrounded by blankets that didn’t really smell like Keith anymore.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Living with the Blade had gotten really old, really fast, Keith lamented.

 

Sure, it had been a bit of a novelty at first. No one made fun of his knife collection (not that his meager assortment really counts as a collection; that’s just what Lance liked to call it). No one looked twice when he lost his temper and purple splotches crept up his neck (although the team had been surprisingly accepting about the whole Galra thing, Allura aside, and Lance always said his ears looked cute). No one limited his time on the training deck (which probably wasn’t healthy, and Keith kind of missed the way Lance lapsed into Spanish the more distressed and tired he got).

 

Yeah, okay; Keith missed Voltron maybe more than he cared to admit. It’s fine; he came here for a reason, didn’t he?

 

 _Yeah, and look how that turned out_ , the bitter side of his mind rebuked. He’d been here for almost three weeks already, and the only thing he’d learned was how to operate the training facilities. So far everyone he’d asked had been useless in regards to his background, and Kolivan had developed a knack for avoiding his questions about finally going into the field.

 

In the end, Keith had more free time on his hands than he had things to fill it with. He’d taken to watching Voltron’s newest marketing enterprise—The Voltron Show. The first time he’d seen it, he thought, _Wow; seems like I jumped ship at just the right time_. After having seen the routine a few times, the only thing he can think of is, _they look tired_.

 

Lance in particular. Keith can see that he’s trying, that his tricks are growing a little more daring, more _seductive_ , with each run-through, but it’s all a ruse. Hell, even _Pidge_ looks like she’s more into her part than he does, and Keith would’ve thought she’d be the least interested of them all in party tricks like that.

 

He’s contemplated calling Lance more times than he’d care to admit, but the truth of the matter is, Keith doesn’t know his schedule anymore. Voltron probably has more things to do than he does, floating through space and twiddling his thumbs, and what if he calls in the middle of a fight? What if Lance picks up, and the action costs him his life, or the life of one of the others?

 

No. It’s better for Keith to take a step back. After all, he’s the one who decided to leave. _He’s_ the one who left _them_. He should just keep his distance and let them move on without him.

 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about calling them, though. That he doesn’t stare at Lance’s contact and think about it.

 

When Lance actually called _him_ , for a split-second he thought he had imagined it, and the image had been borne of pure longing. Then he’d picked up, and it turns out it was real.

 

Hearing Lance’s voice had been…good. He’d missed him. A lot. Keith missed the small things: the smell of his moisturizer before bed; the dumb video games he always beats Keith at; the milkshakes he apparently knows how to make, and how they’re good enough that Keith drinks them even though he’s lactose-intolerant and really shouldn’t be drinking milkshakes without some kind of lactase nearby.

 

Space gets real quiet, real fast when there’s no one to talk to. Not talking—Keith talks to plenty of the Blade members on a regular basis. They tease him about his height, and he tells them to fuck off. They claim they’ve never heard of Earth, and he says that clearly someone did. They ask what’s so interesting about watching his former teammates make fools of themselves on video, and he doesn’t know what to say.

 

No, he means the casual conversation at mealtimes. No one talks during meals here; they’re all business. Not one food fight has ensued, and he has to say, it’s a little disappointing. Surely one of them must have snapped before, and sent some food goo flying. Keith wondered if they would retaliate, if he starting throwing food out of nowhere at dinner tonight, or if they would watch it like a parent watches a temper tantrum and leave him to pick up the pieces.

 

He’s still contemplating the image, curled up in the corner of his room, when Kolivan walks into his room. Immediately Keith straightens up and sets his port screen aside.

 

“What news?” he asked.

 

“A mission is planned to take place in two quintants. Debriefing will be in the dining galley shortly. Will you attend? It’s low-risk and not particularly challenging; we think you’d do well to take part in it. Especially since you’ve shown such…eagerness of late.”

 

Keith tried not to take the slight too seriously. If this was Kolivan’s passive-aggressive way of saying he’d been a little shit and he was finally getting the chance to prove his worth, he wasn’t going to pass it up.

 

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

 

“Excellent.”

 

-

 

 _Low-risk_ had been putting it gently. The cruiser was distantly stationed, light-years away from any kind of backup, and understaffed. If Keith played his cards right, he might even be able to get in and out and leave them none the wiser that anyone had even been in their sector of the galaxy.

 

It would almost be insulting, that this was the only mission he’d been trusted with, but he’d take what he can get. Small steps.

 

The prize was a shipment of quintessence. Not enough to really hurt the empire, but enough to keep the ship he was currently inhabiting afloat for at least a few quintants.

 

It was essentially a supply run.

 

 _Lance won’t believe this,_ Keith mused from inside a vent. Below him, a guard passed by, completely unaware of his presence. After he’d left, Keith gently opened the vent and dropped soundlessly to the floor, the soft soles of his shoes absorbing the impact.

 

 _Me, actually going along with a plan,_ he reflected, and quickly untethered the crate from its spot on the floor. This crate, which was about half as tall as Keith, needed to get from here, the storage facility, to the ship bay. The route was two left turns and one right turn away, and no guards were scheduled to come by for another half-varga.

 

 _He’s going to laugh his ass off later when I tell him about Antok’s comment_ , he contemplated. If he heard one more backhanded compliment about his less-than-ideal height, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

 

Pushing the crate was not a glamorous task; he made quick work of it, but his head swiveled back and forth in constant vigilance. Luckily, the intel was sound, and Keith made it to the bay without incident. He made his way to the control panel and flicked his comms on.

 

“I’m ready for pick-up,” Keith said as he typed, “and the doors are open.” Before he was even done speaking, the doors had indeed slid open, and the Blade’s cruiser landed on the dock. A faceless Blade member hopped out and stowed the quintessence, and then they were leaving again. Keith closed the doors after they were gone, and then erased the memory from the consol. Pidge would be proud, if she could see him now.

 

This was all part of the plan. Now all he had to do was get back to his vent and get out the same way he got in. The cruiser should be perched beside his exit, perfectly positioned as not to be visible by any security cameras or inconveniently-placed windows, waiting for him.

 

Keith rounded a corner and immediately wheeled back, backing up to the wall. _Shit._ Two sentries were headed this way.

 

Mind and pulse racing, Keith surveyed his surroundings. The walls were barren; his only hope was to return to the ship bay, which was almost certainly ill-advised, or take them out, preserving his anonymity and ruining the mission. Then the Blade would have to haul ass for weeks, scattering communications and making calls to Lance impossible, and it would all be his fault… His eyes landed on a vent on the ceiling. The sentries’ footsteps neared, and he had at most a handful of seconds before he would be discovered.

 

Without giving himself time to think it through, Keith scaled the wall, burnt through the bolts on the side of the vent rather than waste time unscrewing them, and slithered up into the hole in the ceiling.

 

He was forced to stay there, holding the vent in its place despite its now-scalding temperature, while the sentries passed by beneath him. _Shit, shit, shit,_ he hissed mentally, gritting his teeth as the heat diffused through his suit to his fingertips like it wasn’t even there. _What’s the point of these goddammned suits if they don’t do anything,_ Keith silently grumbled. Never mind the fact that the suit had sported the laser he’d used to burn through the bolts.

 

“What’s this about?” one sentry demanded.

 

“Just Lotor’s latest scheme,” the other replied boredly. “ _This_ time, he’s promised an endless energy supply that will ‘change the empire forever.’” Keith didn’t need to see his gestures to hear the implied air quotes.

 

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with the Kral Zera coming up soon, would it?” the first said sarcastically. Their voices faded out as they walked away.

 

After they had passed by, Keith set down the vent off to the side. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling now, but at least there wasn’t anyone around to notice. He fisted his hands and tried to ignore the stinging. God, he hoped there weren’t blisters: the last thing he needed was trouble gripping his sword.

 

Keith should have welded the vent back into place and left the mission as it was. He’d gotten what they needed, and he was familiar enough with the vent layout that he was fairly certain he could get out just fine.

 

But his mind was stuck on what the sentries had said. An endless energy supply? Surely that was important for the Blade to know about. Even if they couldn’t stop the Galra from getting to it, maybe they could get in on it, and supply runs like these wouldn’t be necessary anymore.

 

And so Keith dropped back to the floor, welded the vent into place, and turned left, knowing full well that a right would have taken him back to the storage facility.

 

He’d by lying if he said the image of Antok’s face when he came back with more than just quintessence, but reliable, hot-off-the-presses intel, too, wasn’t a factor in his decision.

 

-

 

In the end, Antok’s face didn’t have any look in particular; certainly not anything that made his efforts worth the risk.

 

“You were supposed to be back a varga ago,” Kolivan said flatly. “We don’t wait up if you’re late; knowledge or death. You know this.”

 

“Yeah, and I got the knowledge,” Keith retorted testily. “Haggar and her lackeys have discovered a new type of quintessence that burns three times hotter, lasting longer as an energy source.” The ‘endless’ claim from the sentry had been a little exaggerated. “We could use that to increase time between supply runs. I _also_ found out that Kral Zera’s going to place in a month; that means all the outposts’ attention will be directed inward, at the selection of their new emperor, instead of on their territories. We can use that as an opportunity to liberate at least a couple planets—”

 

“We aren’t Voltron,” Kolivan corrected, the first signs of impatience starting to show. “We don’t liberate; we obtain information from the inside and relay that information to other organizations, _like_ Voltron, whose job _is_ to liberate. And we were already aware of the timing of the Kral Zera, and our spies have been reporting on Haggar’s activities for decaphoebs. All your stunt did was put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

 

“My _stunt_ was done for the benefit of the coalition,” Keith snapped. “And maybe I wouldn’t have done it if I was informed of relevant information—or, I don’t know, any information _at all_.”

 

“You may have been a paladin, but that doesn’t mean anything here,” Kolivan countered icily. “You start at the bottom of the ranks, just like everyone else.”

 

“Oh don’t worry; I learned my lesson when I had to fly an unequipped cruiser for several _vargas_ to catch up with the ship,” Keith sneered. He started to storm off, and then threw over his shoulder, “And maybe think about putting some _heat resistance_ into these suits!”

 

Which is what led Keith to the clinic instead of his room, where he wanted to be. The meat of his palm and the pads of his fingers were burned a deep red, and while there weren’t any blisters as far as he could see, they hurt when he put pressure on them. Training was going to be hell for the next couple days. Still fuming, he angrily slathered a cooling gel onto some bandages and wrapped his injuries, and then had to rewrap them when they were too tight.

 

It was getting harder and harder for Keith to remember why he was with the Blades. Eventually he narrowed it down to three reasons: learn about his background; leave the red lion for Lance; do some good for the galaxy.

 

But it didn’t mean he didn’t miss them like hell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so now we're officially caught up as of june-2-18.

Lance was bursting with news the next time he called Keith. His enthusiasm was dampened when Keith actually picked up.

 

“Hi,” Keith said in greeting, his head resting on his closed fist.

 

“Hey! You’ll never believe—” Lance stopped abruptly. “Why are your hands covered in bandages?” he demanded.

 

“Wh—oh.”

 

“Yeah, oh,” he frowned worriedly. “It looks bad. Is it serious?”

 

“No, it’s totally fine, don’t worry about it,” Keith replied, too quickly for it to mean anything.

 

“What happened?” Lance insisted.

 

“Nothing.” Keith shifted guiltily in his seat. “I was being dumb and I burned myself. But it isn’t that bad. The guy at the clinic was just a little overzealous with the gauze.”

 

“Overzealous?” Lance repeated skeptically.

 

“Yeah.” Before he could investigate any further, Keith neatly sidestepped the issue and prompted, “What would I never believe?” Lance narrowed his eyes, but let him change the subject.

 

“I just got out of a debrief,” he said. “Allura says a couple of Blade members will be staying at the castle for a few days, to talk over some sensitive issues they want to relay in person. Everyone totally thinks you should get yourself on that team. We even talked to Kolivan about it.”

 

“Really?” Keith said in disbelief. “And he was okay with it?”

 

“I mean, it took some convincing, but I think he’s onboard. Why wouldn’t he be?” Lance asked innocently, and Keith snorted.

 

“Well, for one thing, we kind of got into it a few days ago.”

 

“For real?” Lance raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Why?”

 

“That mission I was telling you about. I kind of went off-script, and he wasn’t impressed.” It was Lance’s turn to snort.

 

“You mean he tried to get you to follow a plan for once in your life?” he clarified. “And, predictably, you didn’t go along with it?”

 

“He didn’t have to be an asshole about it,” Keith rebuked. “They just flew away! With me still on the base! I had to catch up in a cruiser, which, let me tell you, was no easy feat.”

 

“I’ll bet,” Lance cackled. “I can see it now: Keith Kogane, star pilot, top in his class, forced to chase a top-rate battleship in a single-engine stealth cruiser.”

 

He kept laughing, and when Keith muttered, “It isn’t _that_ funny,” he only laughed harder.

 

After calming down, Lance asked, “So what do you think?”

 

“About staying with you guys for a few days?” Lance nodded. “Sounds great. I just don’t know if I can talk Kolivan into it.”

 

“Don’t even worry about it,” he said easily. “Allura already did all the heavy lifting; you just have to double check that you’re officially assigned to Mission Awesome.”

 

“Will do,” Keith replied drily, mouth curving up into a smile.

 

They talked late into the night, until they both fell asleep on screen, and it wasn’t until Keith woke up in the early hours of the morning that he saw that the video chat was still going.

 

Lance’s head was resting on his arm, his sleeve growing damp with drool as his mouth gaped open. Keith’s heartstrings twinged; it was adorable, and if he had been there in real life, he would have picked him up and carried him to bed.

 

Instead, he whispered, “Sweet dreams, Lance,” and ended the call. Then he got dressed for the day and headed down for breakfast, a new purpose in his step: he had to find Kolivan and get his ass approved for Mission Awesome.

 

-

 

It took some negotiating, but his ass was approved for Mission Awesome.

 

-

 

They sat directly across from each other during the debriefing. Lance kept trying to catch Keith’s eye, but he seemed laser-focused on the conversation, and eventually Lance gave up on trying to distract him.

 

He tried catching up with him after the meeting instead, but by the time he got across the room, he was already tied up in what seemed like an intense conversation with Kolivan.

 

“…be back in three quintants exactly,” Kolivan was saying.

 

“I’ll have my decision by then,” Keith promised.

 

“Be sure that you do,” Kolivan replied cryptically, and then walked away. “Blue Paladin,” he acknowledged in passing, and Lance gave him a quick nod before turning to Keith.

 

“Honey, I’m home,” Lance quipped, and Keith spared him a tight smile. “What was that all about?” he asked in a quieter tone.

 

“Nothing.” Keith shook his head, as if to clear it. “Good news; the Blade is going on a mission nearby, and since I’m apparently not authorized, I get to stay here until they’re done.”

 

“More time for us?” Lance questioned, excited but hesitant from the brooding look on Keith’s face.

 

“Mmm.”

 

“Why does you look like that’s a bad thing?” he asked.

 

“What?” Keith’s eyebrows shot up. “No, it’s not. I get a whole three days with you guys.”

 

“…a whole three days…” Lance echoed. He had to admit, it was kind of bleak, but hey, he’d take what he can get.

 

The door opened, Hunk leaned into the room. “Dinner’s ready,” he called out, an easy smile stretched across his face. “Good to see you, Keith,” he said.

 

“Yeah, you too,” Keith replied.

 

“Come on, you heard the man,” Lance said, jumping into action and tugging Keith’s hand towards the door. “Now’s your chance to eat some real food—he’s even been working on the goo so it’s less goo-like and more food-like.”

 

“Sounds great.” Keith let himself be pulled out of the room, and then retracted his hand. “Uh, I was just going to stop by my room and drop some things off first. See you in a minute?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Lance replied, and Keith pecked a kiss his cheek. “I’ll save you some goo.”

 

 

Keith never showed up to dinner. The rest of the team turned to Lance for answers, who was not only his boyfriend, but had been acting as their go-between during the last couple weeks, but he didn’t know any more than they did. The conversation was stilted, and Lance ended up leaving early in search of Keith.

 

He shouldn’t even have been surprised when he heard the crashing of metal on metal coming from the training deck, of all places.

 

Keith was so involved, he didn’t notice when Lance crept in and stood by the door, watching him spar. He’d taken off his shirt a while ago, by the looks of it, and sweat gleamed on his skin. The bandages on his hands were gone and his hair was tied back, but for all his efforts, hair still slipped out of his bun and into his eyes.

 

The longer he looked, the tighter Lance’s chest got. There were new scars across his shoulders, his forearms, and even one jagged line across his abdomen. His muscles were leaner, more defined, but he was thinner, and looked exhausted. He always looked tired on the port screen, but it was no comparison to how he looked in person.

 

Finally— _finally_ —the gladiator’s guard slipped up, and Keith lunged forward to slice his torso in half, both pieces falling to the ground with a clang.

 

 _Level twenty-two complete_ , the ceiling announced. Keith, panting, bent over and put his hands on his knees, and legs trembling with the effort to stay upright. _Proceed with level twenty-three?_

 

Before he could get his breath back, Lance piped up from where he leaned against the door. “No,” he called out decisively, and then started towards Keith’s hunched figure.

 

Keith didn’t move. It wasn’t until Lance stopped, standing directly in front of him with crossed arms, that he straightened up to meet his gaze.

 

“How was dinner?” he asked weakly.

 

“Forget dinner,” Lance said sharply. “Something’s up. You were acting weird on the port screen, you were acting weird during the briefing, and now you miss dinner to beat the shit out of a dumb gladiator.” Keith winced. “I know the whole ‘lone wolf’ thing is kind of your act, but come on. Talk to me.”

 

Keith’s shoulders slumped, and evidently that was all the convincing he needed. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

 

“Elaborate,” Lance ordered, and he did.

 

“I have three days to decide whether or not I’m going back with the Blade.” Keith let his sword drop to the floor. “I don’t want to. But I can’t stay here.”

 

“Why the fuck not?” Lance demanded.

 

“Because there’s no room for me here!” Keith exploded. “What would I _do_ here? Shiro’s got the black lion, not that I even wanted it in the first place, and it will be a cold day in hell before I kick you out of Red. Unless Allura gives Blue up, but I doubt that’s likely. If I can’t be a paladin—I’d be useless.”

 

“That’s not true,” Lance objected. “We’d find you another job. Like, fighting weblums for their scaultrite, or taking care of Kalteneker, or helping Coran, or—fuck, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

 

“It kind of does!” Keith retorted. “Think about it: my primary skills consist of fighting, flying, and tracking down sentient robots in a desert.”

 

“Oh, so we’re getting into usefulness now?” Lance countered. “Well, I’ve got about two of those three skills, and they’re nowhere near the same level. Why _shouldn’t_ you have Red back? She’s your lion after all.”

 

“Because that isn’t fair to you!” Keith protested.

 

“What about any of this is _fair_?” Lance asked rhetorically, and neither of them had a response. He expelled a deep breath and looked at the floor. “Do you even want to be here?” he said after a hurt pause.

 

“ _Yes_.” At the heartfelt tone, Lance looked up and was surprised to see Keith looking earnestly at him. “God, you have no idea how much I missed you. The Blades—are even less talkative than I am, and you’re right, I’ve got the whole ‘lone wolf’ thing down pat, but I missed seeing you, and hearing you laugh, and your dumb singing in the shower—” Lance giggled, and his laugh got caught in his throat, and suddenly they were both tearing up.

 

“The food is terrible there,” Keith continued. “I actually missed the food goo. And dinner— They don’t eat dinner there. Like, collectively. Food packs are kept in your room, and you just eat when you’re hungry, and I lived with them for two weeks and I don’t know any of their names except Kolivan and this other asshole Antok. And I didn’t _want_ to know any of them, because I knew we could all die at any moment, and no one would _care_ because of the whole ‘knowledge or death’ mantra, and more often than not, it’s death.

 

“So yeah, I fucking want to be here,” he finished, and by now his voice was ragged with emotion. Tears were freely streaming down Lance’s face.

 

“Then stay,” Lance said simply. Keith swiped at his eyes, and Lance leaned in to give him a hug without thinking.

 

He knew immediately it was the right call, because Keith broke down and clutched at him like he was drowning and Lance was a piece of driftwood. And Lance clutched at him right back, and let him cry until he was done, and then took him by the hand and said, “Let’s go get you some food goo,” and didn’t let him get away this time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no smut (yet) but there are some light SexyTimes to follow. enjoy!

The dining room was empty by the time they arrived, for which Keith was slightly grateful; he loved the team, but he didn’t know if he could handle a big reunion and the volley of questions they no doubt had prepared to launch at him, especially so soon after breaking down in front of Lance.

 

He didn’t speak much as he ate his goo, but luckily Lance had no trouble filling the silence. While Keith devoured his bowl spoonful by spoonful, Lance talked about everything from his latest discoveries at the space mall to the new routine he’s been working on for the Voltron Show. He didn’t want to give anything away, but if his wild gesticulations were anything to go by, it was going to be his most daring one yet. Keith wondered if he would be seeing it in person or by port screen.

 

After dinner, they skipped chilling in the lounge and went right to bed. Keith couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow when Lance followed him into his room instead of retiring to his own. Lance met his raised eyebrow with a slight blush.

 

“I hope you don’t mind, but, I’ve kind of—been sleeping in your room. Not in a creepy way,” he clarified hastily, “just like—I don’t know, it smells like you, and wow, that still sounds super creepy, doesn’t it—”

 

Keith leaned in and pressed his lips against Lance’s, effectively cutting him off. Lance immediately stopped talking, melting into the kiss and placing a hand on Keith’s chest as if he needed to ground himself. Keith pulled back after a moment.

 

“I’m glad,” he said softly.

 

“Hmm?” Lance hummed inelegantly, blinking.

 

“That you were in my room,” Keith explained bemusedly.

 

“Oh. Yeah. No problemo.”

 

Keith promptly collapsed on the bed, and Lance gaped at him, broken out of his daze by his boyfriend’s utter lack of ceremony.

 

“Uh, I _know_ you aren’t going to fall asleep in those nasty ass clothes,” he said indignantly.

 

“What’s wrong with my pants?” Keith asked, only just realizing that he had forgotten his shirt on the floor of the training deck.

 

“Other than the fact that you were training in them earlier and probably have been wearing them for who knows how long?” Lance demanded rhetorically. “Nope. Up, get up. You’re changing.”

 

“Into what?” Keith groaned, but pushed himself into an upright position. He was a little mortified to realize that Lance was right; he’d taken to the habit of sleeping in his Marmora suit, and by now it was second nature to go to bed in whatever he happened to be wearing.

 

“ _Pajamas_ , you heathen,” Lance replied, and began rifling through his dresser drawers. He threw clothing onto the bed, and then turned around and crossed his arms expectantly.

 

“What, you don’t have to change?” Keith retorted, but relented under Lance’s watchful gaze and pulled a shirt on. “That’s a bit hypocritical.”

 

“I will change when I’ve ascertained whether or not you are fit to sleep in my bed,” Lance replied haughtily.

 

“ _Your_ bed?” Keith repeated incredulously.

 

“Well, it’s not as if you’ve been sleeping there recently,” Lance rebuked, to which Keith had no reply.

 

After they were both in “suitable” clothing and Keith and Lance had brushed their teeth and extensively washed their face, respectively, they tumbled into bed—literally, on Keith’s part. He was asleep within minutes, and Lance felt a little bad for forcing him through nightly routines when he was so exhausted. Not enough to regret it—hygiene was important—but still.

 

Keith was hanging half off the bed, feet sticking out into the air, and Lance gently rolled him into a position so that Keith was facing the wall and there was enough room on the bed for him, too. Wrestling the blankets out from under his weight was another issue entirely, but when Lance was able to curl up around his boyfriend, hugging him from behind and wrapped up in blankets, it was oh so worth it.

 

With Keith in his arms and all of his worries appeased for the night, Lance fell asleep faster than he had in weeks.

 

-

 

Keith blinked, suddenly awake; something was off.

 

It wasn’t until he tried sitting up that he realized that nothing was wrong, but rather, everything was right. He was completely comfortable for the first time in a long time, Lance was wrapped around him like some kind of affectionate octopus, and he didn’t have anywhere to be or anything to do at that immediate moment.

 

Lance’s arms tightened slightly as Keith shifted, and then relaxed as he lay down again, burying his face into his pillow and smiling. And then he promptly fell back asleep.

 

-

 

Lance woke slowly. He never had been one to rise early, though Voltron was slowly changing that, and he enjoyed lazing about in the mornings. For a while, he just lay prone, experiencing the world without opening his eyes.

 

Keith was still in his arms, he noted happily. The sheets were a little rucked up, but not enough to leave him without their warmth. The air was still, broken only by their slow and even breathing.

 

When he finally got around to opening his eyes, he was greeted by Keith’s face. Still sleeping, somehow he had worked himself around in Lance’s arms so that they were facing each other. Lance moved one of his hands from Keith’s back so he could lightly trace over his eyebrows.

 

He looked calm, Lance decided. Still tired—the bags under his eyes had lessened slightly, but were still prominent—yet content, nonetheless. Lance’s fingers followed his gaze, brushing under Keith’s eyes, and then caressed the side of his face lightly enough that he didn’t wake, but instead let out a little sigh through his nose in his sleep.

 

Fuck, that was cute. For a second, all Lance could feel was a rush of relief: relief that Keith was here, he was alive, he was safe, and Lance could call him his. It left him feeling more than a little shaky.

 

Sparked by this sudden fragility, Lance leaned in and gently brushed his lips against Keith’s forehead in a not-quite kiss. He then hooked a leg around Keith’s, pulling him impossibly closer, and tangled his fingers in the hair on the back of his neck. Every part of him that could be touching Keith, was, and damn if he wasn’t loving every second of it.

 

 

 

For the second time that morning, Keith woke up surrounded by Lance. This time, however, Lance appeared to be very much awake, and highly concerned with their proximity—as in, he wanted there to be none.

 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Lance teased softly, upon seeing Keith’s opened eyes.

 

“Mmm,” Keith responded mutely, not trusting his voice to work yet. He blinked, still not decided if he would fall back asleep again or not.

 

Lance pecked a kiss at the corner of his mouth, and Keith thought maybe he would stay awake for that. Keith turned his head, and their lips met, and Lance tilted his head to the side, and the kiss deepened, and it was the best feeling in the world. Keith tested the waters with his tongue, morning breath be damned, and when Lance enthusiastically reciprocated, Keith pulled him closer. He nipped gently at Lance’s bottom lip, who made an appreciative noise in response, and then he pulled back.

 

“Good morning to you, too,” he said raspily. Lance just smiled back at him and stuck a hand up his shirt, tenderly tracing the scars on his back.

 

“Sorry if I woke you,” Lance murmured, not sounding sorry at all.

 

“Is that what you call it?” Keith smirked, and Lance pinched him. “Hey!” he protested.

 

Lance tugged on his earlobe with his teeth and spoke into his ear: “Don’t be a smartass.”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Keith fired back, though his breathing was less steady than it had been. Lance grinned at the effect he was having on him, and then moved his teeth from Keith’s ear to his neck. He made his way, one kiss at a time, down his neck until he got to where it connected with his shoulder, and then paused and started sucking.

 

Keith groaned; not only was Lance paying attention to his neck, but also attacking his back with blunt nails, and the dual sensations were driving him mad. You haven’t lived, he thought nonsensically, until you’ve had a lover who can multitask like Lance can.

 

“Don’t tell you what to do?” Lance repeated huskily, having moved back to admire his handiwork, a giant hickey now decorating Keith’s pulse. “What if I told you to roll over so I can eat you out?” he suggested, finally meeting Keith’s hooded gaze.

 

_Jesus fuck._ Keith swallowed the curse words, already lost to the imaginings of what Lance’s sinful mouth could do to his ass.

 

Before he could do much more than imagine, the dimmed lights in their room turned bright red and an alarm began blaring.

 

“Mother of _quiznack_ ,” Lance said exasperatedly, and Keith collapsed backwards on the bed. What kind of bullshit timing—

 

“Paladins, please make your way to your lions,” Allura’s voice announced from above. “It appears the Castle is under attack.”

 

“Go,” Keith urged at Lance’s conflicted face. “I’ll be on deck with Allura and Coran. You just worry about not dying.”

 

“Heh. Like our own personal cheerleader,” Lance joked as he opened the door.

 

“Wait, come here,” Keith said, and then got up to meet him at the door. He had to stand on his tip-toes to kiss Lance firmly on the mouth. “For luck,” he explained at Lance’s bewildered expression. “Kick some ass.”

 

“Aye aye, cap’n,” Lance replied, and gave a quick salute before running off down the hallway. Keith watched him leave, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. _What a dork_ , he thought fondly, and then headed for the main deck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I thought the boys deserved a little break after all that angst. hopefully the rest of the team will make an appearance in the next chapter. see you on the flip side :]


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imma be out of commission for three weeks with no Internet, so i've been working hard to update before that happens. hope you like it.

The battle was long—longer than anything Keith had seen in weeks. The types of things the Blade did generally didn’t involve drawn-out violence like what Voltron had to deal with. Keith was sitting on the edge of his seat the whole time. That is, after Coran told him to stop pacing.

 

It’s not that he couldn’t stomach the worry; he was used to worry. It was the utter powerlessness of watching it all play out in front of him. The team was out there in the thick of it, and Coran was operating the few weapons the castle did have, but Keith? He was lucky to be monitoring the particle barrier, and didn’t even have a headset to follow along with the conversation between paladins.

 

There were several near misses. Keith’s palms were red and slightly bleeding from how tightly he was clenching his fists, in the absence of a sword or joystick to cling to. Hunk’s armour successfully deflected a blast from the Galra ship once, and Keith didn’t know if his lion had the fortitude to withstand another direct hit like that; Allura only barely skirted past another blast, leaving the end of Blue’s tail smoking. But Keith would be lying if he said his eyes weren’t drawn to follow the progress of Red, and the paladin that piloted her.

 

So far, Lance was doing okay. He dove in and out of the battle zone, swiping at the guns and leaving strips of fire in his wake, but Keith dreaded the moment when Lance missed his mark, or was just a hair too slow.

 

Eventually, the team formed Voltron, as they almost always did. It was strange, watching it happen without actually being a part of it. Keith automatically calmed his mind, as if to join in, but without actively being a part of Red and sharing that communication, nothing happened. But if it meant Red wasn’t distracted, that had to be a good thing, Keith convinced himself.

 

They didn’t make it very far; Shiro jerked the Black Lion one way, and the rest of them tried going in a different direction. They broke off into their own parts, and still distracted, no one was paying attention when the guns fixated on Shiro’s prone lion.

 

Well. No one but Lance.

 

Predictably, instead of trying to take the guns out, Lance dove in to save Shiro from the blow. Keith was on his feet in an instant, crying out to a paladin who couldn’t hear him. It was no use; after being struck directly by the blast, Red spun out, equally disabled as Shiro seemed to be.

 

“Retreat—I repeat, paladins, retreat,” Coran ordered into his headset. Allura and Pidge started towing the two motionless lions back to the ship, while Hunk covered their backs and occasionally fired over his shoulder. Miraculously, it was one of these shots that did the trick, igniting what Keith guessed was a fuel tank and reducing the entire ship to a ball of flames.

 

By the time the lions were parked in the hangar, Keith was already waiting anxiously for them and Coran had gone to set up a healing pod. Pidge, Hunk, Allura, even Shiro were disembarking from their lions and taking off their helmets, but there was no movement from Red. Keith ran up to her, and she opened her mouth to him with no hesitation.

 

Keith didn’t even get into the cockpit before he heard Lance yelling out, “I’m fine, I’m fine!”

 

“Bullshit,” Keith muttered, knowing full well he’d be saying that if it were a hangnail or a death wound.

 

“Seriously, I’m—ow—totally fine,” Lance insisted. “Okay, maybe not one hundred percent,” he admitted, and Keith finally got in front of him and was able to assess the damage.

 

There was broken glass strewn across the floor. The windshield was shattered, and there was blood covering Lance’s left shoulder. Thankfully, he still had his helmet on, which, with its automatic breathing tank, had probably saved his life from the vacuum of space. The shoulder, however, was another story.

 

“I could use one of those healing tanks right about now,” Lance suggested, and Keith glanced up at his face; it was scarily pale, and looking fairly woozy. _Blood loss_ , Keith guessed.

 

“Coran’s already setting one up,” Keith replied, trying to reassure them both as he knelt to unbuckle Lance’s seatbelt. He then slid an arm under his knees and picked Lance up whole, murmuring, “Sorry,” when he made a pained whimper.

 

“Did’ja see me?” Lance asked, wincing with every step Keith took. “I was like a fucking ninja.”

 

“Yeah, you kicked ass, alright,” Keith agreed tightly. He kept glancing down, terrified by the way Lance’s eyelids fluttered. “Hey, stay with me. No passing out on me, got it?”

 

“If you’re worried about missing a bonding moment,” Lance smirked, “I can make it up to you later.”

 

Keith didn’t have time to answer, because just then he was entering the med bay, where Coran was already standing next to an open healing pod.

 

“Just take his armour off; the suit underneath is suitable for the pod,” Coran instructed, far too calm for Keith to be comforted.

 

“Heh. Suit. Suitable,” Lance joked, eyes completely closed now.

 

“Now is not the goddamned time for puns,” Pidge snapped from the doorway. The paladins had been on Keith’s heels the whole walk to the med bay, and now they were waiting by the door; it was not a very large room at all. Pidge and Allura were at the front, Hunk peering over their shoulders, and Shiro was presumably somewhere in the hall.

 

Keith punched a few buttons and the rest of Lance’s armour fell away. They stood him up in the pod, and Keith only had time to kiss his forehead before it was being sealed up and Lance was unconscious.

 

He stepped back, wrapping his arms around himself and stopping when he realized he was covered in blood. _At least I left my jacket in my room_ , he thought distantly. Coran was standing by the information panel on Lance’s pod.

 

“It seems the injury was inflicted by shrapnel, not the blast itself,” Coran read. “There is minor muscle damage, but other than that, no major complications should arise.” He turned away and addressed everyone: “Lance is going to be fine.”

 

There was a collective sigh.

 

“On that note,” Pidge said, “I’m going to shower.”

 

“Yes, I’d best look after Blue’s tail,” Allura commented contemplatively.

 

One by one, they trickled out of the med bay, until Keith was the only one left in the room. He stood directly in front of Lance’s pod, glaring at his peaceful face as if he could wake him up with the force of his furrowed eyebrows alone.

 

“You better fucking make it up to me,” Keith said finally, and then sighed and turned away.

 

He was surprised to find Shiro on the ground just outside the door, his knees drawn up and his hands wrapped around the back of his neck.

 

“Hey?” Keith questioned. Shiro looked up, and there were tears in his eyes, and Keith saw that his hands were shaking. “What’s up?” he asked lightly, sitting down across from him so that his back was against the wall.

 

“Lance got hit because of me,” Shiro confessed. Keith’s eyebrows shot up; what with Lance’s latest remarks about Shiro, he hadn’t expected him to be so…self-aware. And so clearly distressed.

 

“No,” he corrected, “Lance got hit because he was being a self-sacrificing asshole.”

 

“No. After Voltron split up—I was the reason we were in that position,” Shiro said haltingly.

 

“What happened with that?” Keith asked honestly.

 

“I…wasn’t listening,” Shiro admitted. “After we formed Voltron, I wanted to rush at the ship head-on. The others wanted to go at it from above to hit what Pidge thought was a possible weak point in the guns’ construction, to disable the weapons for good. I didn’t stop to—I didn’t listen,” he repeated lamely.

 

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Keith said cautiously, and raised an eyebrow when Shiro ran his metallic hand through his hair, leaving it in a haphazard mess; that was even less characteristic of him, to show such unrest.

 

“I know,” he agreed miserably. “It’s been like this ever since I woke up on that ice planet. I can’t escape the feeling that—that something’s different.”

 

“What’s different?”

 

“I don’t know!” Shiro snapped. Almost as soon as it came, his anger seemed to leave him, and he deflated slightly. “I’m sorry,” he amended a moment later. “This whole thing is just really frustrating.” He looked up at Keith, pleadingly, as if looking for validation. “You know?”

 

“Yeah,” Keith replied, and slumped against the wall. “I know what you mean. After spending so much time with the Blade, I don’t even know where I fit in anymore. Here, with you guys? As a human? Or with them, as a Galra?” He shrugged rhetorically. “I dunno. But I’ve got two days left to figure it out; at least you aren’t under a gun.” They both winced at the wording. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

 

“For what it’s worth,” Shiro offered after a moment of deliberation, “everyone missed having you around. And if you’re worried about being too Galra, we could learn to get used to it, if it meant you stuck around.”

 

“It’s not just that,” Keith insisted. “Where can I make the biggest difference? As much as I’d like to be here, I don’t want to be here if I’m not doing anything to fight the Galra.”

 

“If it’s a lion you want, you can pilot mine,” Shiro offered. Before Keith could object, he continued, “It’s like I said before: something’s different. The Black Lion and I aren’t… _clicking_ like we used to. If you two still share a bond, it might be easier for everyone if I took a step back for a while. Especially after what happened today.”

 

Keith could see it clearly — him, in the Black Lion, leading the team like he had before they found Shiro again — and he couldn’t say he liked the idea any more than he had the first time.

 

“Thanks but no thanks,” he said finally. “I’m not leader material. You weren’t here the last time we tried that, but… Let’s just say it wasn’t exactly fun.” Like the time he left the team behind to track down Lotor alone? Yeah, no. “Besides, you and the Black Lion will get back on track eventually,” he encouraged. “It just takes some time. We all thought you were dead, your lion included, so let yourselves adjust.”

 

Shiro laughed softly. “When did you get so wise?” he teased.

 

Keith smiled tightly. _Probably around the time you disappeared_ , he thought, but kept his mouth shut. “I dunno,” is what he said instead.

 

“Hey, I’m going to get some food. Everyone missed out on breakfast. Want to join me?” Shiro offered, standing up.

 

“Nah, I’m good,” Keith lied. “Maybe I’ll go help Allura with Blue, lend a hand or whatever.”

 

“Sure thing. See you around.” And with that, Shiro left.

 

And instead of going to check in on Allura, Keith walked back into the med bay, situated himself on a stretcher, and waited for Lance to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooh and the battle is done. Action scenes and smut scenes are kind of similar, from a writing perspective, because there's a lot going on and I never know what needs conveying.
> 
> So things I wanted out of this fic from the start were: long-distance angst; Keith coming to terms with being Galra; a heart to heart between Keith and Shiro with the focus mainly on Shiro and his clone-ness; a battle scene; a smut scene; a configuration with the lions that I'm finally happy with*; and, of course, a happy ending. More or less in that order. I expect there to only be a few more chapters, so enjoy it while you can. :]
> 
> *THE PUZZLE PIECES ARE FALLING INTO PLACE


	6. Chapter 6

In the end, Lance was in the pod for about seven hours. It was two in the morning when he finally tumbled out of the pod, off-balance and blinking himself awake. His heart melted a little when he straightened up and saw Keith sleeping, curled up on the stretcher in front of him.

 

Presumably, Keith had meant to be awake when Lance woke up from the pod, but Lance took one look at his sleeping face and made the executive decision to risk his later wrath and not wake him up; instead, he took a trip to the hangar.

 

Everything was more peaceful at night. Technically, floating through space, there wasn’t a strict night and day schedule like there was on Earth, but after explaining the circadian rhythm of the human body to Coran and Allura and emphasizing the importance of routine – much to the chagrin of Pidge – a space clock was rigged up and installed in every Paladin’s room, so they collectively followed about the same daily schedule. Of course, surprise attacks notwithstanding.

 

Nevertheless, Lance found it calming to wander the ship when no one else was up and about. Most nights he just sat by a window and watched the stars outside, but tonight he was feeling a trip to the lions. What Keith had said lingered in his mind: that there wasn’t a place for him here anymore.

 

Utter and complete bullshit. Couldn’t he see that his presence here was more important than whatever role he played? But if that’s what kept Keith away, than Lance guessed it wasn’t bullshit. Yes, he wanted him here, but he wanted him to be happy here, too, not just here because Lance wanted him here.

 

 _What a mess_ , Lance thought dismally, and approached Blue. She may not have been his lion anymore, but she still exuded a calming aura that Lance appreciated. A faint purr rumbled through his mind when he rested his palm against her nose, and he couldn’t help but smile.

 

Then he walked on to meet Red, where she sat on her haunches, waiting. “Hey, girl,” Lance said softly. “Keith’s back,” he commented; “can you still feel him? In your mind-space or whatever?” There was a light-hearted growl in response, which he took to mean, _of course._ “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, more to himself than to Red.

 

Lance sat down, crossing his legs and leaning against her giant metal paw. “I don’t understand how this happened,” he confessed. “We used to fit together perfectly: five paladins for five lions. Easy peasy. Then Shiro disappeared, so Allura had to step up to the plate and everyone else had to change lions, but then he came back, so Keith left, and now—” he abruptly cut off with a sigh. “It’s not just that he’s my boyfriend. Keith’s a part of this team. We work better when he’s here, as an active part of Voltron. The black lion would take him back, but he doesn’t want that, and even if he did, there’s no way he’d take it from Shiro. _You’d_ take him back, but then where would I go? I’d step back in an instant, but Keith wouldn’t—”

 

A sudden roar cut him off. It wasn’t Red, and the corner of his brain dedicated to Blue was silent. He looked up.

 

The black lion was standing up, eyes mysteriously aglow. Lance checked over his shoulder, fully expecting Shiro or maybe Keith to have found his hiding spot, but no one was there. He looked back to the black lion, the puzzles pieces clicking together.

 

“You don’t mean—” he started. Before his very eyes, the black lion lowered its jaw to the floor, maw opening wide. _I do mean_ , was what Lance surmised from the gesture.

 

Maybe there was a way for everyone to get what they wanted, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the radio silence. I know this was a short one, but the next chapter should be longer, and also finished much faster, hopefully. It's crazy how ao3 holds me accountable; normally I'd have given up by now, but this time I'm gonna actually finish the fic. :]
> 
> Edit: this is taking so much longer than I'd thought. I swear it's in the works.


End file.
